


Drunken Confession

by Antecanis



Category: Assassin's Creed - All Media Types
Genre: Alternate Universe - Modern Setting, ConHaythWeek 2016, Fluff, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-12-25
Updated: 2016-12-25
Packaged: 2018-09-11 21:09:58
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 2
Words: 6,377
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/9026125
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Antecanis/pseuds/Antecanis
Summary: After Connor has moved back in with his father, Haytham realizes that his interest in the young man is far beyond what he is supposed to feel towards him. And when he has a drink too much, Haytham makes the mistake of leaning in for a kiss - a desperate excuse of being reminded of Connor's mother being the first thing that comes to mind to rescue the situation. But unsuprisingly, the young man doesn't really like to hear that...





	1. Drunken Confession

**Author's Note:**

> Written for the CHW 2016 <3 Prompt: "Drunken confessions" (I thought that was perfect as a title, sorry!)  
> Happy holidays!!

The whole town was busy with Christmas preparations, and Haytham drove home slowly beneath festively lit up decorations and colorful lights. He had been working late, and was now tired and yearned for a quiet evening at home. So far, he hadn’t wasted any thoughts on Christmas presents yet, but there weren’t many to gather anyways. In fact, only one that mattered.  
Sighing, he ran a hand over his face and tried to concentrate on the street in front of him; wondering if Connor would already be asleep, or maybe had waited with dinner for him.

His son had moved in with him again a little over a year ago, and even though at first it had been difficult for both of them, Haytham was now rather _fond_ of having him around…  
Connor had moved out when he had been 18; doing work for an animal shelter and mainly volunteering for rescues all over the country; spending his money on those trips and his dog that he had gotten from the shelter after he had found his own apartment. But then, in the summer of the previous year, the dog had gotten ill. Connor had paid for the surgeries, and at first it had seemed like the dog would pull through. And then, one evening, Haytham’s doorbell had rung.  
There the young man had stood, with a duffel bag; soaked by the rain that hid the boy’s tears well. His beloved dog had died, and he was indebted because he had spent every single cent on the vet.  
This was how the young man moved in with his father again.

They had reached an agreement which mainly consisted of Connor not having to pay rent and thus being able to repay his debts – he wouldn’t let Haytham settle them – while the young man was working at the shelter; a work that he loved, even though it didn’t pay much; never enough to pay for his own apartment, groceries _and_ the debt. The attic in Haytham’s house was renovated and now functioned as a tiny make-shift apartment for the young man; a cozy place with lots of photographs on the walls, plants and books.  
In return, Connor helped around the house, and often prepared dinner for his father. Sometimes, when he was in good spirits, he even gave him a massage.

In the first few months they had still fought a lot, but now it was a different atmosphere at home; and Haytham was actually looking forward every day to the moment he would step through the door after work.  
At first, he had guessed it would never stop annoying him that he was sharing his home with his grown up, headstrong son, but strangely enough, it had all turned into quite the opposite.  
He had certainly been impressed by the young man before; admiring proudly Connor’s strong will to follow his values and ideals with the charity work and pet rescues. But one day during this summer, Haytham had caught a glimpse of his son running around the house half-naked; eating ice cream on a stick and sucking it innocently as he scurried around and tried to find something.  
As if struck by lightning, Haytham had realized in that very moment that – and heavens, he hated to admit it – he was not looking upon the young man like a father should; no, he was actually in love with him.

When he opened the door that day in December, a pleasant scent of food wafted around him, and he realized that he was indeed quite hungry.  
Wondering if the other was still up, he made his way into the kitchen, where he found Connor. The young man looked up from his phone and smiled as he saw his father. He put the phone away and said, “Hi. I was just about to call and ask when you would come. I thought you’d be earlier today!”  
Getting up to open up the fridge, he produced a bottle of Haytham’s favorite white wine, and fetching two glasses, he remarked, “Well, I made lasagna. I’ll warm it up a bit.”  
Haytham watched him and was slightly puzzled about the wine; that wasn’t their usual routine.  
“What’s the occasion? Did you have a successful rescue today?” Draping his jacket over a kitchen chair, he sat down and reached up to loosen his tie a little.  
Making a face, Connor put down the bottle and glasses in front of him and eyed his father for a moment until he seemed sure that Haytham was serious. “Actually, no. It’s… uh, it’s your birthday, remember?”  
“Ah.” Shaking his head a little, Haytham mustered a tired smile. How could he forget; that explained the missed calls on his phone and several texts from unimportant people he had ignored so far. Sighing, he reached for one of the glasses and held it out for Connor to fill. “Yes… indeed; I guess it is. I sure do need a drink.”

One drink developed into two, and two into four… Whisky followed after wine, and eventually, the two of them sat on the couch, and seemed to have the first relaxed conversation in forever.  
“…and that’s how Penny found her family. And I was kinda glad they didn't take Aki in the end, he's still my favorite, even though he's _huge!_ So much bigger than the other herding dogs we currently have.” Connor concluded another story from the shelter with a smile.  
Haytham could feel that he was drunk by now; could feel the alcohol making him feel warm and somewhat fuzzy; he had already gotten rid of the vest, but even in his shirt, he still felt a bit hot.  
The young man looked flushed as well; and his eyes shining darkly in the dim light of the living room. Just now, Haytham thought that he had never looked more attractive; talking about the things he was passionate about and radiating an aura of ardor and appeal.  
Before he even knew it, Haytham had moved forward; one hand resting on Connor’s neck as he crashed their lips together. He could feel the boy’s surprise, and for a second it almost seemed as if he was responding; his parted lips pressing against the other’s, and his tongue meeting his father’s questioningly. But then, after just the shortest moment, he pushed Haytham away.  
Realizing what big of a mistake he had made, Haytham backed away; running a hand over his face as he saw Connor’s shocked expression. Suddenly, he felt quite sober again.  
“Damn it. I’m… My apologies, Connor. I’m sorry. I just…” Taking a deep breath, he tried to handle the worry turning his stomach. “You looked just like your mother for a moment there, and I guess… I had a drink too much. You reminded me so much of her, forgive me. I didn’t mean to…”  
It was the first thing that came to mind that Haytham could excuse his behavior with; fearing that if Connor learned the truth, he would leave. Of course he’d leave, Haytham thought bitterly; shaking his head as he got up. “I’ll better go to bed. Thanks for the food, and… my apologies again.”

The following days passed with something being off, and Haytham felt it with a certain bitterness suffusing him. Maybe Connor hadn’t believed him; had glanced the terrible truth after all… The young man wasn’t as carefree as before; and even though he continued to prepare meals for his father, he wasn’t around when Haytham came home; usually locked away in his rooms upstairs.  
Day after day went by like this, and soon it would be Christmas.

One evening, when Haytham came home even later from work than usual, he was just parking the car as he saw the young man approaching their house; a girl walking arm in arm with him.  
Trying to ignore the jealousy tugging at his insides, Haytham stayed put and watched as they walked up the stairs, where the girl seemed to say her goodbyes. They laughed, and the older man wondered when he had seen Connor this happy before.  
When the young girl leaned in for a kiss, Haytham clenched his jaw and realized that he really had to let go of Connor; that this was how it _should_ be; nothing he was feeling towards the young man was right or allowed.

Haytham stayed home the weekend before Christmas, and was as usual lately in a rather bad, brooding mood. He had played with the thought of sabotaging his son’s relationship with the girl, who was, as Connor had mentioned one day, working at the shelter, too, but in the end, he had kept himself from doing so; knowing that it was childish and vile.  
That Saturday noon he was sitting in the kitchen; having his second coffee and looking through the newspaper; not paying too much attention to the headlines in front of him. Connor and him hadn’t talked about Christmas yet, and now Haytham was wondering whether or not they would even spend it together. Maybe, as he thought with bitterness, the young man would rather be with his girlfriend; maybe he would move out soon.  
“Father?”  
Looking up, Haytham raised his brows questioningly.  
Connor seemed a bit distracted as he sat down opposite the other; crossing his arms in front of his chest and averting his eyes. “You know, about Mom…”  
“Yes?” Haytham was surprised to hear him start about this; usually the young man wasn’t too willing to talk about it at all.  
“You weren’t together anymore when she died.” The young man’s dark eyes returned to glance at his father.  
“No, we weren’t.”  
“Did you still love her then?”  
_No._ That would be the truth; but Haytham could guess where this was going, even though he didn’t quite understand as of why Connor would bring it up. “Yes, of course; I still do, even now. We didn’t split up because we didn’t love each other anymore; it was… just very complicated, you know?” That last part was the truth; and even though he had stopped loving her in a romantic way long ago, he would always care about her, and treasure the time they had – and the kid they had brought to this world.  
“She didn’t love you anymore by then, you know?”  
A crooked smile appeared on Haytham’s lips. “I know. Sometimes the person you love doesn’t love you back that way. So?”  
“Do you really miss her that much? Is that the reason you even took me in again? Because you see her in me?” Connor’s words sounded cruel, and Haytham was surprised by his tone.  
“Maybe.”, he said, knowing it wasn’t true. But in case Connor wanted to get him to admit that his drunken kiss was more than just about Ziio, he was mistaken. The confession he had made by kissing the young man would not be repeated in unmistakable sober words.  
“Maybe I should move out then. I’m not her.”  
Scoffing, Haytham tried to hide how much that idea hurt him. “Yes; maybe you should.”  
“I will, then! If you care about her more than about me, there’s no point of me staying, is there? Because she’s gone and didn’t love you, and I… I’m… I’m not gone!”  
“Well, go ahead, I’ve been annoyed by your presence ever since you moved in.”  
Getting up angrily, the young man rushed to get his jacket. Only at the door he turned back and said, “I’ll be sleeping at my _girlfriend’s,_ and I’ll get my stuff tomorrow! I’ll move in with _her,_ you know!?”  
Clenching his jaw, Haytham mustered a sardonic smile. “Whatever.”  
For a moment, they looked at each other, and it almost seemed like Connor wanted to say something more, but then he opened the door and was gone.

Cursing, Haytham picked up the mug and before he could stop himself, he had thrown it across the kitchen, where it crashed shattering against the counter; splashing coffee over the cupboards and scattering shards all over the floor.  
_Great, that has helped a lot,_ the older man thought as he ran a hand over his face; taking a deep breath before he went and cleaned up the mess.

For a few hours he was tempted to call the other and apologize; somehow hoping that Connor might just come back and they could simply continue living together like this.  
When it got dark, Haytham brought out the whisky, realizing that as of tomorrow, he’d be living alone again. The attic would become a dusty storage place again, and Connor would be gone for good; starting a family with that girl Haytham didn’t even know the name of. Maybe it was better this way, he mused as he poured himself a drink. How else would it have ended? With him forcing himself upon his son again?  
Shaking his head, he made it a double Scotch on the rocks.  
His frustration with his own illicit desire and the prospect of losing Connor in his everyday life ended in him emptying the bottle and falling asleep on the couch; too drunk to care; knowing that Connor wouldn’t come back anytime soon; and maybe it was for the best…

It was very late when he woke up, and it took him a moment to grasp where he was. His neck ached due to the lack of a proper sleeping place, and with a groan, he moved. He was still drunk; he could feel it, and for a second he wondered what had woken him up in the first place.  
But then, as he raised his eyes, he realized it. There was someone standing amidst the darkness of the hallway; clad in a long white dress, with long, black hair, and a beautiful bronze skin that shone in the dim light…  
“Ziio…?” Haytham reached up to rub his eyes; either he was more drunk that he’d ever been, or he was still sleeping; simply dreaming. Maybe, as he thought with confusion, both of it. Or it was her ghost, coming to rip him apart because he yearned to be with their son.  
The silhouette stepped closer; hair hiding her face, and Haytham tried to sit up. “Have you… come to haunt me?”  
Shaking her head, the apparition stepped into the living room. Haytham wanted to say something more, but instead he just watched her coming closer; her dark eyes gleaming in the scarce light making its way into the room. Her shoulders seemed broader, but the dress hid the rest of her body well; letting Haytham’s mind play tricks on him because it almost seemed more like a rather buff man’s silhouette to him.  
Leaning over Haytham, the figure’s face was still hidden by the long, black hair, but when she placed her lips onto Haytham’s, he knew he was just dreaming or hallucinating, because it weren’t her lips; if anything, they felt like Connor’s.  
Giving a soft sound, Haytham reached up and cupped the apparition’s cheek; pulling her closer and deepening their kiss. The alcohol still made him feel slightly unreal, and the only thing he was sure of was his own confusion.  
The kiss felt clumsy and sloppy; Haytham being drunk and the apparition seemingly quite inexperienced; just how he would think Connor was… Guessing that his mind had come up with this mixture of images and dream-like sequences, Haytham gave another soft sound into the kiss. When the apparition pulled away, their breath was slightly heavier; and for a moment Haytham just looked at her features; realizing that he couldn’t even see her face anymore; all he saw were Connor’s features.  
Groaning, he averted his eyes; wondering when he would wake up or fall back asleep. But the figure’s lips returned to his skin, and Haytham bared his neck further as the other’s lips trailed over it. A hand ran slowly over his broad chest and eventually palmed his cock in a rather shameless way.  
“Heavens…”, he muttered; wondering if he had ever had such an intense wet dream.  
When the apparition moved down with her lips and started to undo his pants, Haytham just leaned back; burying a hand in her long, black hair.  
He couldn’t help but think about Connor; how Connor’s kiss would’ve felt; how his lips would’ve wandered over his skin; his hands working on his father’s pants.  
Unable to hold back a moan when the figure freed his half-hard cock from his pants and started stroking it, Haytham looked down on her and wondered how he could ever dream this up.  
When she looked up at him, it again struck him just how much this looked like Connor; always being on his father’s mind now, even in his dirtiest dreams.  
The other’s lips closed around the older man’s cock, slowly starting to suck; pressing her hot tongue against it as she took in more.  
Panting, Haytham untangled his hand from her hair and instead buried his fingers into the soft cushions of the couch. His eyes fluttered shut as the other continued with her stimulations; letting Haytham’s back arch from the backrest of the sofa, and forcing soft sounds over his lips in a constant, sweet stream.  
Due to the alcohol and his mental image of Connor being the one sucking his cock, Haytham didn’t last long, and when he came, he gave a pleasured growl; watching the apparition’s face closely as she swallowed.  
Wiping her lips, she looked up at him intensely, and Haytham gave another unwilling groan.  
“’m sorry.”, he muttered, running his fingers over the other’s reddened cheek. Only after a moment realizing that she might think he was talking about coming into her mouth, he clarified, “I just… can’t see you anymore, dear. I am… all I see his him, y’ know?”  
Drunken confessions, he thought as he reached down to close his pants. “Even like this. Even in my dreams, or fantasies, or… whatever, it’s always him.”  
The other’s gaze was questioning and Haytham shook his head; feeling the alcohol make him dizzy and talkative. “I’m sorry I wanna shag our son so badly. ‘m sorry I wanna… I wanna _be_ with him, if y’know what I mean… ‘m terribly sorry. But he’s gone now, y’know? ‘m not gonna… get to... do it, so you don’t hav’ta haunt me, eh?” Closing his eyes, he sighed. “’m such a fool…”


	2. A Christmas Gift

As Haytham woke up in the morning, a blanket covered him, and a thick pillow had been placed under his head. Mumbling a curse, Haytham ran a hand over his eyes; feeling hung over and ill tempered; vaguely recalling the weird wet dream from the previous night; but even more so remembering the brief but considerable fight he had had with Connor.  
Apparently, the young man was already back to pick up his things, and Haytham was slightly surprised that he had cared to provide his father with a blanket and pillow. Maybe it was the Christmas spirit, Haytham thought with some sarcasm as he got up and stretched. His back hurt, and so did his head. Groaning, he went to the bathroom; washing up and taking a painkiller so he wouldn’t have to deal with the headache for the whole day.

When he came back downstairs and entered the kitchen, Connor seemed busy preparing breakfast. Despite the cold temperatures outside, he was only wearing some shorts and didn’t seem to realize just how well-formed his chest and back were; and how revealingly his underwear displayed the tempting curve of his ass.  
Groaning internally, Haytham thought, _you’ve got to be kidding me._  
“Good morning.”, Connor chirped once he spotted his father, who in return just gave a passive grunt.  
“Are you picking up your things?”, the older man muttered after a moment, looking at everything in the room but the boy.  
“Not really. I think I’ll stay just a bit longer.”  
With some confusion, Haytham sat down at the counter in the middle of the kitchen and tried to ignore the half-naked boy scurrying around. “Whatever.”, he muttered, trying to hide both his bewilderment and the fact that he was more than pleased to hear it; even though he knew that this would all be challenging; with Connor continuing to stay here and behaving like this… Certainly, as Haytham absent-mindedly reminded himself, the boy shouldn’t be afraid to let loose around his father like this; not suspecting the other’s mind coming up with any illicit ideas… Shaking his head a bit, he poured himself a glass of water that he gulped down; allowing himself just a glance of the boy’s taut ass.  
Turning around, Connor stretched, conveniently letting Haytham have a good look at his muscular body. Swallowing heavily, the older man averted his eyes but his attention was instantly drawn back to Connor as the young man ran a hand over his chest slowly, apparently deep in thought; eventually slipping his fingertips beneath his boxer shorts and only then seemingly remembering that he wasn’t alone.  
“You know, I had a really good night. How about you?” Looking at his father as he pulled his fingers away, Connor flashed him a big smile.  
“Yeah, had a great time.”, Haytham said sardonically; trying to erase the picture of Connor pushing his fingers down his pants from his mind.  
“I actually went to second base, if you know what I mean.”, Connor added with a wink, leaning onto the counter and involuntarily presenting his naked chest to his father in front of him.  
Averting his eyes, Haytham clenched his jaw. “I don’t care. I don’t see how that’s relevant for me to know.”  
“You know that feeling, when you’re intimate with that _one_ person?”  
“No. I really don’t want to hear it, Connor.”  
“And maybe before you weren’t really sure, but when you’re, well, at it, you just realize ‘this is it’? This is the person I wanna be with? Wanna let feel good, wanna be close to? The person whose moans just drive you insane?”  
Merely shaking his head, Haytham wished for a moment that Connor hadn’t come back after all; at least not to tell him how great his sex with his girlfriend had been last night.  
“And now, I’m finally sure they like me back. It was all a bit complicated, you know? At first I thought I didn’t like them _that_ way, and then I thought they only liked _me_ because I resemble someone they once knew, but then they said they actually _do_ like me; want to, uh, _shag_ me…”  
Haytham’s heard jerked up, and he looked at his son with some disbelief clouding his tired eyes.  
“Oh! The pancakes! I almost forgot.” Turning around again, Connor switched off the oven and pulled out a plate with pancakes that he had been warming up in there. Humming some melody, the young man got some maple syrup and placed two plates onto the table; but before he could continue with their breakfast preparation, a hand closed tightly around his wrist.  
“Ow! What…?”  
“What do you think this is? A game?”  
Haytham’s face was pale, and his voice was angry. There was still some confusion nagging at him, but there was no doubt: It had been Connor with a wig in the dress last night.  
“No! I…”  
Letting go of the young man, Haytham got up and gave an angry snort. “Do you even realize what you did? How dare you – !”  
But before he could say anything else, the young man had rounded the counter and pulled him into an embrace.  
Not knowing how to respond, Haytham just froze for a moment and then gently pushed the other away. Connor looked at him with dark eyes and a more serious expression than before.  
“I can explain.”  
He grabbed his father’s hand and dragged him back to the living room couch, where he urged him to sit down; having a seat right next to him; still holding onto his hand much to Haytham’s irritation.  
“When you kissed me…” Connor started, and Haytham clenched his jaw. “I was… confused, mostly. And in the days afterwards, I… I felt so _angry,_ and I didn’t really know why. At first I thought it was because you _kissed_ me, and… you’re my father, you shouldn’t, well, shouldn’t kiss me like that.”  
Haytham wanted to interrupt him and tell him once more that he had only kissed him _because…_ but Connor shushed him. “No, I mean, I… I even went out with this girl from the shelter; I knew she liked me. And I like her, too; she’s a great person.”  
Again, the young man kept his father from interrupting. “But you know, when we kissed, I… I realized that I didn’t feel a thing. I even… disliked it. Yeah. I like her, as a person, but just not like that.” He sighed and glanced at his father with a crooked smile. “Then I understood. I had been so angry because I thought you kissed me for looking like Mom; not because I am myself. That’s what I wanted to talk to you about yesterday; somehow… I wanted to hear that you’re over her; that I’m not some kind of substitute for her. I wanted you to like me for who I am, not who I resemble. And in that moment, I really planned to move out, you know? I was so hurt by you saying all of that. But… I started thinking about it all. Doubting myself and the way I like you. I just… wanted to talk to you again and came back in the middle of the night after I ended things with... with the girl I had been dating. When I found you drunk on the couch, I… I didn’t mean to be cruel, I just… thought when you would see _her_ you’d allow another kiss. I just wanted to use you being drunk to steal a kiss, I swear. Maybe find out if what I feel is true, or… And then… well, I just got a bit carried away.” He blushed and Haytham would have interrupted if there was anything he found to say; but he was at a loss for words.  
Connor looked up at him again and squeezed his hand. “I’m so glad your drunken confession cleared everything up, though. I now know just how much I… I like you. And I’m sorry for teasing you this morning, it was just… so tempting.”  
The other looked at him baffled, and the young man seemed somewhat amused as he hesitantly leaned in and pressed his lips onto his father’s, who softly responded. Haytham regarded it as their first real kiss, since only now he was aware of it being Connor; only now they both wanted it, and only now he was sober enough to really appreciate it.  
As their kiss deepened and grew hungrier, Connor pulled away with flushed lips and cheeks. “Oh! The pancakes are getting cold!”  
Watching as the young man got up and hurried back into the kitchen, Haytham stayed where he was for a moment longer, still all too perplex by the developments of the morning.

Christmas Eve came, and after a nice dinner out with Connor, Haytham retreated to bed. It had been a weird few days since their first kiss, and even though there had been more kisses, he couldn’t quite believe it would be like this between them from now on. The boy, however, seemed uncharacteristically cheerful, and Haytham enjoyed seeing him that happy. Sometimes he just watched Connor scurry around while the older man pretended to work; still amazed by the prospect of being _allowed_ to reach out for him and pull him close whenever he longed for it.  
It had been many years since Haytham had felt this affection towards anyone, and being able to let it guide him had made his life considerably better even in those few days already.

It was late now, nearing midnight, and just when he was about to doze off, there was a knock on the door. Sleepily raising his head, he muttered, “Come on in.”  
Slowly, the door opened and there Connor stood; stark naked except for a red ribbon adorning his broad chest. “Merry Christmas.”, he mumbled as he stumbled into the room; apparently slightly embarrassed by his own idea of a Christmas gift to his father.  
Whatever sleepiness had been on Haytham’s mind before, it was gone now that he sat up and reached out to pull the boy onto the bed with him.  
Connor let himself fall onto the mattress next to his father; his cheeks painted in a faint pink with embarrassment; looking up at Haytham with dark eyes.  
“Do you like your gift?”, he mumbled seemingly rather insecure, shifting a bit and readjusting the ribbon on his chest. Haytham leaned over him, unable to keep an amused smile from his lips.   
“How could I not?” He cupped the boy’s cheek and leaned in for a short kiss.  
When he pulled away, he eyed the other with a mild, warm expression and muttered, “But I hope you know I don’t mind waiting a bit longer if that’s what you’d prefer. I’m not rushing you with this, no matter how I much would like to… _explore_ this.” He dared to let his fingers run over the other’s smooth skin and the ribbon; tempted to just undo it as he would unwrap a present.  
“I…”, Connor started, getting a hold onto the other’s hand and squeezing it briefly. “No, I, uh, I couldn’t really stop thinking about it for the past days, and… I was wondering if you didn’t want it because you didn’t…?”  
Haytham gave an amused huff. “Because I didn’t just _grab_ you?” He shook his head slightly as he let his gaze run over the other’s revealed body. “I wanted to give you time; make sure you… really want this.” He leaned down to press sloppy kisses onto his son’s neck and throat, adding breathily, “But heavens, it was so hard not to invite you to come to bed with me.”  
Wrapping his arms around his father, Connor seemed to enjoy the affectionate kisses; arching his back slightly and presenting himself more to the other; groaning slightly when Haytham’s teeth scraped over his skin.  
“You don’t have to invite me…”, he muttered as he closed his eyes and shuddered. “I know I want this.”  
Raising his head to lock eyes with Connor, Haytham gave a brief, heart-felt smile and stole another hungry kiss; his fingers running through his son’s raven hair and over his shoulders down to the ribbon.  
“Father…”  
Playing with the red band, Haytham didn’t undo it just yet.  
Wrapping his arms around Connor, he pressed close again; their lips locked in a desperate kiss; shaky breaths weaved through the amalgamation of lip-tugging and bites; moans and whispered praise. They were just embracing each other like this for a long while; letting their hands wander over the other’s skin; caressing, exploring and mapping out the body they had dreamed of knowing; greedily tracing those curves they had admired from afar; had silently appreciated before; now being able to voice their want with yearning touches and impatient tugging at each other’s hair.  
Their tangled bodies were heated and locked in a tight grasp with neither of them wanting to back away an inch. Haytham could feel the other’s arousal pressed against his’; precum having stained his sleeping pants but no thought was wasted on that as they enjoyed the pleasuring friction between them; endlessly spurring their want with flushed lips breathing out sinful sounds as they grinded against each other and wondered how they would ever be able to let the other escape from their arms.  
The ribbon had gotten out of place but wasn’t entirely undone yet; and Haytham’s fingers slid over it now and then with some amusement filling him; hoping he would never forget the image of Connor stumbling into his room just wearing that.  
The older man’s lips eventually left the other’s; covering his son’s cheek and neck with rough kisses; leaving reddish marks on the bronze skin along the way down. Playfully biting down onto a nipple, he enjoyed the sounds leaving Connor’s lips tremendously; making his mind go blank with desire as he reached down and caressed the other’s slick cock.  
Gasping, the young man spread his legs more; tangling his fingers into Haytham’s greying hair and pushing him down further.  
Complying, Haytham licked over the soft skin on Connor’s stomach and finally let his lips and tongue trail the other’s erection slowly; his heart throbbing upon hearing the young man’s dark and wanting moans. Sloppily placing kisses against his cock, Haytham shuddered as his fingers nudged the other’s entrance and found it slick and smooth already; realizing that the young man had prepared himself before coming to his father’s bedroom.  
“Next time…”, Haytham let out huskily as he looked up at the other with dark eyes, “Let me do it, will you?”  
“Yes… yes, f-father.” The boy’s voice was small and shaky; his grip onto the other’s hair tightening as he licked his dry lips.  
Trying to take a deep breath, Haytham shuddered at the tone of the other’s voice; the longing in it so palpable that it felt like it could drive him mad with desire.  
Getting to his knees, he leaned over the boy who let go of his father’s hair, and Haytham reached out for the nightstand where he hoped to find condoms at the bottom of a drawer.  
As he rummaged around in it, he could feel Connor covering his stomach with kisses; shifting a bit and pushing down his father’s sleeping pants to free his straining cock.  
Groaning, Haytham shuddered as he glanced down at Connor; trying to hurry with his search for what they needed to push things further.  
The young man let his fingers run over the other’s erection slowly; rubbing his thumb over the tip and smearing precum over the sensitive skin; doubtlessly thinking about that night he had given his father a blowjob.  
Unable to keep a low moan from passing his lips, Haytham shuddered and finally got a hold onto condoms; just hoping they were still alright. It had been a while, after all.  
Ripping the wrapper open without any further ado, he looked at Connor for one last confirming glance. Their eyes locked for a split-second, then the young man took the condom from his father’s hands and proceeded to roll it onto the older man's cock.  
Reaching for the lube which was situated where Haytham knew where it was, he gave himself a few strokes and slicked himself while doing so; trembling because he wanted the other so badly; not remembering a moment in which he had been more suffused by want and desire to become one with another person; desperately trying to connect and ensure the moment was real.  
Positioning himself between the other’s legs, Haytham aligned himself with the young man’s entrance and held his breath as he watched the other’s body accepting him.  
“Nh, f-father… please, _please,_ f-fuck m-me… D-deeper, yes, oh god, _Haytham…”_ More nonsensical yet spurring utterances left Connor’s flushed lips as he held tightly onto the sheets beneath him and panted heavily.  
With dark sounds pouring over his flushed lips, Haytham slid into the young man’s body. Connor groaned and his eyes fluttered shut as he pressed his head back into the pillow; mumbling more vaguely praising phrases as he clasped the sheets and spread his legs more.  
Slowly, Haytham started to move against him; gently pulling out and then pushing into the tight hotness again; shaking his head just to himself as he realized that it was really happening.  
The young man reached out for him to pull him down and close again; crashing their lips together in an intense kiss; melting their lovemaking back into one joined movement; their bodies tangled and in a frenzied pace trying to become one; forcefully moving against each other as if this could break through the boundaries of their separation.  
“I love you. I love you….”  
The words were moaned and whispered, cried out and kissed against the other’s heated, sweaty skin like a mantra; making them forget who uttered them first.  
Gasping, Connor held onto the other’s shoulders; fingernails scraping over the pale skin and hickeys blooming on both their bodies when Haytham’s grip onto his son’s hips turned almost bruising; picking up the pace of their lovemaking one last time until they arched against each other with a shared, soft cry of pleasure and affection as the orgasm washed over them.

The night flew by with neither of them noticing it; only coming to their senses when pale daylight made its way past the curtains into the room and illuminated their flushed, exhausted bodies.  
Panting, they lay there amongst the ruffled sheets in an entangled embrace; tired and pleasured; happy and loved; having forgotten where their body ended and the other's began.  
Only now, Haytham reached out and fiddled with the ribbon for a moment until he managed to undo it. With a faint smirk, he removed it and put it aside; regarding the gift in his arms with unveiled affection.  
“I’ve a present for you, too.”, Haytham remarked after pressing a brief kiss to Connor’s cheek.  
Just giving an exhausted hum, the young man’s eyes searched for his father’s and he smiled weakly.  
Shifting a bit and reaching under the bed, Haytham produced a collar. "Sorry, I forgot to wrap it."  
With a questioning gaze, Connor blushed. “I’m not sure… I mean, if you think it's… I guess it's okay…”  
Laughing, Haytham shook his head. “It’s not for you – even though… That might give me ideas.” Letting a crooked grin adorn his soft features, he handed the collar to Connor.  
“I thought you might like the permission to adopt a new dog; since you’ll be staying here for a while, and there’s enough room…”  
Breathing out a surprised and happy laugh, Connor took the collar and glanced from it back to Haytham. "Remember the huge herding dog...?"  
"How could I not?"  
Leaning in for a brief kiss, Haytham muttered, "Merry Christmas."


End file.
